The Queen & The Soldier
by WeatherWatch
Summary: When we began there were sixteen of us; now only three remain. How can you even try to justify that?" He said, his voice deadly. She refused to look at him; it was for the Greater Good.


**Disclaimer:**** So, I don't own Harry Potter, or any of its affiliated thingamajigs, and I have no claim to the brilliant Suzanne Vega's song 'The Queen & The Soldier". They all belong solely to their respective owners - how about that.**

**THE QUEEN & THE SOLDIER**

_The soldier came knocking upon the queen's door  
He said, "I am not fighting for you anymore"  
The queen knew she'd seen his face someplace before  
And slowly she let him inside._

He said, "I've watched your palace up here on the hill  
And I've wondered who's the woman for whom we all kill  
But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will  
Only first I am asking you why."

_*_

The Dark Lord's presence hung over the British Isles, a shadow that weighed heavily on the free peoples and those who fought to defeat him. Riddle had grown in power, and his followers increased daily, whether voluntarily or under pain of death it was unable to be determined. The Headquarters of the Light, the remnants of what had once been the glorified Order of the Phoenix, now occupied an abandoned manor house to the North of England, it's wards enhanced a hundred-fold by the talented and hardhearted witch who led the resistance.

A young man, whose face told tales of suffering and whose eyes had seen horror, walked through the corridor, barely making a noise as he followed the free house elf, his eyes determined and steely, to their leader's rooms.

He remembered her from school, this Queen of the Light; they had been students together and, although not close, they had always been courteous and aware of the others talents. A Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor held no rivalry, except upon the Quidditch Pitch, and those days, days filled with freedom and joy, were long forgotten.

*

_Down the long narrow hall he was led  
Into her rooms with her tapestries red  
And she never once took the crown from her head  
She asked him there to sit down._

He said, "I see you now, and you are so very young  
But I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won  
And I've got this intuition, says it's all for your fun  
And now will you tell me why?"

_*_

The Mistress of the free peoples sat demurely by the window, an old photograph with a worn line through the middle that indicated it had been open and closed many times was held limply in her hands.

"Boot, I was told to expect your presence." She murmured, gently touching a finger to the picture before folding it and placing it in the small, beaded bag that she never let out of her sight.

"Mistress." Terry Boot, ex-Ravenclaw, gave a short bow to the resistance leader. She looked regal, despite her worn clothing, and she didn't look him in the eye, preferring instead to gaze out the window at the stormy weather that hovered unrepentantly over the country side as it had since the Dark Lord's return to strength.

"I remember you in school – you always had such a quick mind." She spoke quietly, dreamily recalling memories, though the tiny hint of a smile was overshadowed by grief. "Rather admira-."

"We cannot go on like this." He phrased it bluntly, bringing them straight to the point as he interrupted her wistful speech.

"Like what?" She responded, icily, but he glimpsed the flash of despair that fell across her face, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. "We have no choice but to continue. We are dead if we are against him; we are dead if we surrender. At least we take them with us when we fight."

"Take them- You do not understand!" Terry cried angrily, glaring at the petite witch as he tried to calm himself.

"I have been on fourteen missions in the last year. When we began there were sixteen of us; now only three remain." His quiet voice was deadly, daring her to argue. "We are but one party. Others have not been so lucky."

She refused to look at him now, trying to convey a sense of indifference; it was for the Greater Good.

Terry continued; his tone dark.

"We lost _thirteen_ soldiers," he emphasised the loss, and the pain he felt carried into his voice, "in exchange for four Death Eaters - _four, _Granger. There is no justification for that. How can you even try?"

Terry crossed the expanse to stand before her, his torn clothes sullied by blood and sweat. She kept her eyes averted.

"Do you remember any of them?" Boot questioned coldly, working hard to keep his own emotions at bay. "Dean? He was your fellow Gryffindor, Granger. Do you know how he died? How much he screamed when Greyback left him, mangled and bleeding, for the inferi to finish off?"

Her breaths were short and ragged, but he kept speaking, needing to get his point across.

"And Seamus. I had to hold him back – we couldn't lose another life like that – but he fought tooth and nail to stay behind – to kill every one of the Death Eaters who remained - even as we Apparated away.

"He was killed in the next mission, you know. He threw himself into the battle, recklessly searching for Greyback and destroying the surroundings," Terry swallowed the lump growing in his throat. "He never had a chance."

"Seamus, Dean, Ernie, Lupin, Tonks, Creevey, Justin," he bombarded her with names, "Neville, Hopkins, Chang, Lovegood…"

He paused.

"Ginny."

*

_The young queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye  
She said, "You won't understand, and you may as well not try"  
But her face was a child's, and he thought she would cry  
But she closed herself up like a fan._

And she said, "I've swallowed a secret burning thread  
It cuts me inside, and often I've bled"  
He laid his hand then on top of her head  
And he bowed her down to the ground.

_*_

It had crushed her, he could tell, as soon as he'd spoken the Weaslette's name. He had filled it with blame and suffering, and his barb had hit the mark, piercing through the walls she had erected around herself, if only for a moment.

"You have _no_ concept," Granger whispered in a deadly voice, her eyes hard, "no concept at all of how involved I am in this. No clue as to the pain I endure _every_ _single_ _day."_ Her voice hitched, and she was clearly trying to keep tears from rolling down her cheeks.

"They were never supposed to die. It was a harmless ritual; we done it so many times before. But He felt the changes… and He-he…" She breathed. "_Harry…Ron…I'm so sorry._" She whispered brokenly, her eyes closed to stop the flow of tears that threatened to fall.

Terry didn't break the Mistress' silent show of grief, and he regretted it as she opened her eyes, composure back in place as she let her cold gaze fall upon him.

"Life does not believe in fair play, Boot. Secrets and consequences always arise, at the most inopportune of times." She said cryptically, standing in front of the tall soldier. "I am neither stranger to loss, nor to consequences."

Terry defied her imperious gaze and stepped closer, placing his large, calloused hand on her shoulder -she winced at the contact, her first with another being in years, and he thought she might cry – but he applied pressure, encouraging her to sit.

_*_

_"Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel  
As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed  
But I won't march again on your battlefield"  
And he took her to the window to see._

And the sun, it was gold, though the sky, it was gray  
And she wanted more than she ever could say  
But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away  
And would not look at his face again.

_*_

"I'm not one to say that you haven't suffered, Granger, but you play with our lives as if they were naught." Terry said quietly. "You stay, locked up in here, away from the dangers of war – and there is nothing you can do but wait to see what happens."

Her body was hunched, making her appear smaller than she already was, and as she turned to look out the window across the moor. The grey clouds parted, only for a moment, and the sun peered out before it was swallowed once again by the limitless grey.

Terry could see the internal battle she was clearly fighting; her eyes were troubled and she breathed in a deep, albeit shaky, breath before apparently coming to a conclusion to her conflict.

Her brown orbs evaded his blue eyes.

_*_

_And he said, "I want to live as an honest man  
To get all I deserve and to give all I can  
And to love a young woman who I don't understand  
Your highness, your ways are very strange."_

But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she would break  
And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached  
She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait  
She would only be a moment inside.

_*_

"I cannot endure it anymore, Hermione." Her heart stopped for a millisecond at the use of her first name. "I need to be free of this hell-hole. There is nothing left here for me; nothing that can be mine, as I so wish it." He stared meaningfully at her, but she refused to meet his gaze.

"You intrigue me, Hermione. Intrigue, and frustrate me like no other person has ever done." Terry murmured, lifting a hand to gently graze two fingers over her cheek.

She looked so broken now, having finally let emotion reach her upon the contact between them. She had almost forgotten what it was like; to be touched, held, to be near another person with blood as warm as hers.

Standing, Hermione led Terry to the door, requesting he wait outside, and closing it softly when he complied. Alone again in her large rooms, Hermione retrieved her wand, running a finger fondly over the shaft; vine wood, with a core dragon heartstring.

"I'm sorry, Terry." She whispered sadly.

_*_

_Out in the distance her order was heard  
And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word  
And while the queen went on strangeling in the solitude she preferred  
The battle continued on_

________

***--sniffle. **

**I just adore this song. It has a bittersweet tendency to cause me to cry. I hope it pleases you, reader.**


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